


Terms Accepted

by J_Ray



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Ray/pseuds/J_Ray
Summary: Haunted by memories of the labyrinth and afraid of losing her children to the Goblin King, Sarah decided to forgo motherhood. When she does eventually have a baby in spite of her fear, Sarah's worst nightmare comes true. As she navigates the labyrinth a second time, Sarah takes for granted that the conditions of victory will be the same as last time.





	1. Chapter 1

Days' worth of dishes in the sink. Open cereal boxes and half a jug of sour milk on the counter. Mostly-clean laundry in a heap by the tiny kitchen table. A stack of unpaid bills.

 _Unpayable,_ she would have corrected.

But this tableau was not half as dispiriting to Sarah as the image of her husband stalking up the ice-slick sidewalk towards her apartment's front door. With a steadying breath, she went to answer before he could pound on it. She feared it would wake the infant asleep in a tightly wrapped sling against Sarah's chest.

"John." She tried to keep the raggedness of the newborn-days exhaustion from her voice: her tone was flat. "What."

John had been startled by the door swinging open as he raised his fist to it. For a moment he stood, hand held uselessly in the air. Then he brought it to his shirt pocket, retrieved an envelope, and presented it to Sarah. "From my lawyer. Detailing exactly how I owe you _nothing."_

Sarah gazed at the paper in her hand. "John. Jenny is your _child_."

"Yeah, that's the problem, Sarah. I didn't want kids! And neither did you! What happened to-" They had had this conversation many times already. Rather than bother with it again, Sarah simply wondered why he insisted on this repeat performance on her doorstep. "This is _your_ bullshit, and _I_ will not pay for it."

By now John was shouting, and it woke the infant who immediately wailed. Sarah rocked and bounced the girl to soothe her, but her cries continued and seemed to incense John. Sarah dimly remembered a very different man from the shouting soon-to-be-ex-husband on her stoop. She had not foreseen this turn in their relationship when, having unexpectedly conceived, she opted for motherhood.

It had surprised her a great deal to do so. 

John was still shouting, and Sarah watched him wearily.

"- _selfish_ , Sarah, I just don't get it. Don't tell me ' _it's complicated_ ,' that's always your line, I'm so damn tired of it! The _complications_ end here for me. And-"

Raising a hand as if to protect her and her child from John's angry speech, Sarah finally responded, her own voice louder than she'd intended. "You do _not ever_ call me _selfish,_ John. And it _is_ complicated! I'm sorry you're incapable of-"

They shouted over each other for several more minutes, throughout which the baby simply cried against Sarah's breastbone in her keening voice. At last Sarah regained her sense and moved back to slam her door and end the useless sparring match. John was sneering. "Shut it up! I can't stand its noise."

Sarah paused with the door in midswing, tears in her eyes. She hissed softly, "You are really more vile than the Goblin King himself."

"Ha! That old chestnut again. You're really crazy, Sarah, you know that?" John turned to leave before he could be dismissed by Sarah's door. He glanced briefly at the bundle on Sarah's chest as he strode away and called back snidely, "I wish the goblins _would_ come take you away, right now!"

And Sarah's world split open.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a dull pain in her head. Scratches on her hands, arms, face, neck. A strange aching emptiness at her chest.

Sarah sat up into a crouch. Her eyes registered shades of ochre but were slow to focus. There was the rustle of dry grasses and wildflowers. The shifting sensation as of dry sand beneath her. An alien tang to the air.

_No. Not alien. Merely forgotten._

Sarah steeled herself. Rubbed her watering eyes clear. Turned her head towards what she already knew she would see.

And howled till there was no breath left in her.

" **Sarah**."

Something in her released like a spring. She rounded on the figure behind her and lunged in desperate fury. Jareth raised a hand, a crystal ballooning from his fingers. It enveloped Sarah, interrupting her assault. Half mad, Sarah raged against the magical prison suspended before the Goblin King. His face was inscrutable as she screamed wordlessly, her anger turning suddenly and fully to despair. Beyond endurance, Sarah slumped and went still, her arms around her legs, face hidden between her knees.

Jareth thought if she had any magic to her, she would have grown great black wings to wrap around herself. He moved closer to study her a moment, his face an odd mixture of elation and disappointment. This was not how he had envisioned a reunion with Sarah. And certainly he had envisioned it... She seemed defeated before having even begun. His mouth twitched into a crooked condescending frown. What had happened in the long years since she had stood calm and defiant before him?

Reaching forward, he waved away the skin of the crystal bubble and eased the catatonic Sarah to the ground. He leaned close over her, considering her vacant face a moment, then backed away and vanished.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sarah?"

A more welcome voice this time. Not the one that twisted her name into something entirely more than her name, not the one that commanded as much as called.

She remembered who was she, where she was, even if she didn't understand. It was as though fifteen years had been just a dream. And she remembered this voice now too; Hoggle was kneeling by her side, her hand in his.

"Sarah?" he was repeating with concern, patting her hand.

She spun herself up, suddenly alert and aware and ready to do what came next. "Hoggle." She embraced him briefly but warmly. "I am so glad to see you. Take me to the entrance into the labyrinth, I have to do it again." She started pulling him down the hill before he could protest.

"Without our customary chat?"

Her heart dropped. She hadn't noticed him by the tree. Sarah turned slowly now to face him, all high blue leather collar and spilling cream lace. She released Hoggle's hand, and the dwarf backed several feet away without intending to.

"Give me back my baby."

Jareth paused before responding to Sarah's demand, his face impassive. He tilted his head and looked away. "A child was offered. I know it to be yours. But really, Sarah, there were less drastic measures you could have taken to see me again." He walked towards her, smirking. She kept his gaze as he strolled past, consciously refusing his bait. Sarah had realized, some years after her experience Underground, the implications of many of Jareth's words and glances; she did not wish to stir those ashes. The entire idea was terrifying.

Putting aside these fears, she summoned her courage again and narrowed her eyes. "Return the child you have stolen from me."

"Ah." A chide. "It does not work that way, Sarah, remember. And I did not steal it. It was given. My goblins accepted a gift. We performed the task demanded of us. So do not cast your anger at _me._ I did not wish away the babe."

Her mind was strangely calm. She felt the wind blowing her hair into her face, breathed the dusty scent of the dead hill. What had she learned last time, those years ago that felt like yesterday? Look for the best in people. Ask the right questions. Be bold. "Take _me_ to the child, then."

He made an amused face and shook his head.

"Then I have my thirteen hours?"

He circled back around her and leaned lightly on the glittering leafless tree nearby. "Whatever for, Sarah? You seem not to understand. You were not the one who wished the child away. You are not here to override the wish, since _you_ did not make it."

She balled and released her fists. "What _am_ I doing here then? Why am I-" She faltered, remembering.

John. The threshold argument in the cold spring air. Those words which she had shared with John one drunken night trying to explain her unease around innocuous things like peaches and glitter. Trying to confess to him how the fear of losing a child was so great as to prefer childlessness. He hadn't really believed any of it, of course. Though now she wondered whether the knowledge of those words' real power would have prevented him from uttering them.

The argument with John, followed by the great confusion of what felt like a hundred armored toads swarming over her, prying at the cloth holding the tiny baby to Sarah's chest, smashing small dirty fists into Sarah's face, blocking out all sight.

Then waking on the hill.

"You wouldn't let go."

Sarah had been staring into space but turned now towards Jareth's voice. Hoggle was hovering uncertainly between Sarah and the labyrinth, clearly eager to leave the King's presence but unwilling to abandon Sarah. She also itched to move, to run, to begin the game so as to end it, to stop wasting precious time. But she had to understand where she was starting this time.

"You wouldn't let go of the child," he repeated, "and the idiot goblins just dragged you along too. When they finally prised you off, they dumped you here." He surveyed her injuries with an appraising expression. "You do look like this journey down was rather more eventful than the last."

Sarah glanced carelessly at her scratched and bruised arms. When she looked up again, Jareth was very close and she hiccuped in surprise. His loose wild hair nearly brushed against her face. Jareth's eyes, mismatched and manic, seemed to pour him right into Sarah. Hoggle stepped forward, an arm raised as if to speak in protest; a wave of Jareth's hand stopped him, from simple fear rather than magic.

"I could soothe those hurts," he purred, moving to take one of Sarah’s arms. She jerked away.

 _Trickery, or embers in the ashes?_ she wondered coolly, though her heart was pounding.

"Is she hurt?" she demanded.

He gave an offended clownish pout, then raised a crystal towards Sarah. Her eyes widened and she stepped back further in horror. Jareth cocked his head in annoyance. "It's no danger to you, Sarah. Look into it." She still hesitated, and he sighed. "The child is under my care and suffers no injury. How little you think of me. Come, look, look."

Concern for her baby overriding her distrust of Jareth, she moved just close enough to peer into the bauble. A moving image within showed Sarah's tiny child, Jennifer, swaddled in unfamiliar fine cloth and sleeping peacefully on Jareth's throne. She appeared unharmed. Sarah's arms ached for her child; she tucked them against her chest where Jenny should be.

Jareth watched Sarah with something approaching pity. She lifted her face reluctantly from the image. "I will run your labyrinth for my daughter, Goblin King, and I will take her home from this hell."

She held Jareth's gaze as his expression hardened and Hoggle made nervous movements behind Sarah. When Jareth spoke, his voice was soft and low. "Take care how you speak of my kingdom, Sarah. My home and demesne." He withdrew the crystal from under Sarah's face, and her eyes went to it desperately as Jareth vanished it. She was tempted to ask to keep it, but the price for such a favor was probably beyond all sense. "You repay my generosities in your typical fashion. I fetched your dwarf friend here to rouse you, certain you would not appreciate any of my efforts to do so. This, after you _attacked me,_ I will add. I have offered succor for your physical wounds and shown you your daughter to put your mind at ease. All with you Underground not more than three quarters an hour."

She narrowed her eyes; this game again. However she was relieved that he was peevish now rather than seductive or menacing.   _Forty-five minutes already._ She stood as tall as she could and repeated, "I will run the labyrinth for my daughter."

"You did not make the wish. You do not have the right. That is asking too much even of my magnanimity."

"I am her _mother,_ goddamnit _._ I am _here._ I will run the labyrinth for my daughter and I will take. her. home."

He sighed and passed his hand over his face in exasperation, though his mouth lifted in a small concealed grin. _This_ was the Sarah he remembered. "Sarah, I will bend rules for you, but I will not break them." His voice lowered and took on a bitter tone. "Remember, I move the stars for no one."

Her eyes were hard. "Well then move your feet for me. Walk and talk, Goblin King. I know how far it is, and time is undoubtedly short." She took off towards the labyrinth, reaching out a hand for Hoggle to join her. The dwarf looked miserable and hurried ahead of her, avoiding looking towards the king.

Jareth did follow; Sarah noticed however that his feet were not moving. Rather, he glided down the hill, the toes of his boots floating smoothly over the ground. Somehow his pointed disobedience irked her even through everything else happening.

"Where are your clocks, Goblin King?" she asked curtly, her eyes on Hoggle as they hurried toward the labyrinth. "What are the terms?"

"Sarah, I tire of telling you. You cannot revoke words which you did not speak. The child's father made the wish, and he did not recant. In thirteen hours- well, twelve, now- the child will be one of us, unless the wisher reaches the castle, but I do not see him here."

"And I told _you_ , that I am going to solve your labyrinth for my daughter's sake."

"Yes," he said softly. "So you are." Then more audibly, "Your repetitive insistence bores me. Adulthood has not tempered your obstinacy. I will give you the hours to solve my labyrinth for, as you ask, your 'daughter's sake.' As yet another _generosity._ "

Sarah looked at him without breaking stride. "I will not go home without Jenny."

Something passed behind his eyes. "Indeed, then. Terms accepted."

She frowned and opened her mouth to respond but he was gone.

They had reached the labyrinth.


	4. Chapter 4

Hoggle hesitated before the labyrinth's outer wall and looked to Sarah. "Din't expect t'see you here ever again. Are yeh sure about this, Sarah? Goin' back in there..."

"Yes, Hoggle." She knelt and clasped his hands against her heart. "My daughter is in the castle. And I am going to find her. I have to." She stood and faced the wall. "I'm ready."

Hoggle bid the doors open and a dense mist rolled over Sarah. She shivered, less from the chill than from the crush of memories and half-forgotten nightmares that all seized her as she crossed through the doorway. Panic tried to rise in her again, but thinking of tiny Jennifer in the distant castle leveled her once more.

Hoggle's voice helped to break the spell that entering the labyrinth had laid on her. "Ya don't _look_ ready, meanin' no offense."

"Heaven knows that's the truth," she replied, her mind only half on her friend. Under other circumstances she would be happy to talk with him again. It had been many years.

Immediately after her first experience Underground, Sarah had felt exhilarated and triumphant. Strong. However as the euphoria wore off, she realized the deep effect her time in the labyrinth had had on her. She was jumpy around owls and paranoid about cereal box mazes. Her deepest interests had seemed suddenly trivial. Twice Sarah had called on her Underground friends but the visits left her unbalanced for days. She explained to Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus that she was having difficulty combining the Underground with her other life. Though they were disappointed, they sympathized. There were no more visits.

Sarah hoped Hoggle didn't begrudge her that decision. She had missed him. And now she needed him.

"Hoggle, I need your help. My..." her voice trailed off. Should she try to recreate her previous path through the labyrinth or head off entirely uninformed by her last passage? Could she even begin to retrace her steps? Could the labyrinth possibly be unchanged? _Jareth_ appeared unchanged. Would he play by a different rulebook, now that she was older? She was exhausted physically even before her arrival here, from caring for Jenny and dealing with John, then the shock of returning here, what if-

_Stop panicking. Act._

"Can you lead me to the castle, Hoggle?"

"I c'n try. The labyrinth don't seem to like me much these days, not since... Bah! I'll try." Hoggle's face was scowling. "Damn you, Jareth," he announced to the air.

Sarah matched Hoggle's scowl and dark tone as she echoed him. "Damn you, Jareth." Then she turned to the right and began jogging.

~~o~~  ~~o~~   ~~o~~  ~~o~~  ~~o~~  ~~o~~ 

She remembered this. The timelessness of running the maze. The shift from bright daylight to midnight with the crossing of a threshold. The aggravating inhabitants of the labyrinth and their contorted words. The Underground had been a dim shadow in the back of her consciousness for half her life, coloring everything she did, and now it felt like her only reality. She lived in the countryside because the closeness of a city was too reminiscent of these endless corridors. She never felt confidently _alone_ even in secluded places. She had sworn off motherhood to avoid... All the while, she had been sure it was ridiculous to so fear a place she surely would never see again, that might not have even existed.

But then there she was, arguing with an aggrieved topiary about the definition of "panache _."_

Sarah forced herself over and over to block out thoughts of her daughter, to focus on simply navigating the labyrinth. She tempered her eagerness to sprint with the knowledge of her physical limitations. She was not fifteen any more. She was instead a month out from having given birth, worn out from keeping the baby within arms reach at all times. And she had just been given a good low-level thrashing by goblins.

She raised a weary leg to climb yet another step on the seemingly infinite staircase they were now traveling. It hadn't seemed odd when they began, but now the stairs seemed to have no end. Just step after step through wind and fog. Hoggle swore it had been the right path and that they should reach the top any moment.

Sarah had worked herself into a trance to manage it. Step. Step. Step. Step. No thoughts, no planning, no panic, just: Step. Step. Step. Step. Hoggle was muttering behind Sarah about the miserable wind and the miserable stairs and that miserable king. These stairs were, after all, more difficult for his small stature than for Sarah's. Suddenly Hoggle's voice pitched into a growling shout.

The stairs beneath and behind Hoggle had flattened into a ramp and he was sliding, down down down and far away, down the hundreds of stairs they had just traversed. Numb with shock, Sarah could not even react. Then Hoggle was out of sight, far below. Her lips almost formed the words: _It's not fair._ But they didn't have to; her expression said it for her, and added: _And entirely unsurprising._

She was incapable of either ascending another stair or rescuing Hoggle, so she sat down. Her face went instinctively towards the castle just visible in the distance through the swirling fog. Hoggle had been right that the labyrinth seemed to hold a grudge against him, and despite his brave efforts to lead her through, she was not confident of their progress. How long had they been going now? Concern for Hoggle was a vague pain in her already heavy heart. She was considering slipping onto the slide herself, to pursue her friend both for his sake and to avoid losing her guide, when the ramp slammed back into a staircase with a surprisingly soft _thwuk_.

 _Decision made, then_ , she thought dully. She pressed the sleeve of her shirt against a deep scratch on her neck that hadn't stopped bleeding. The blood showed bright against the pale blue of the fabric.  A sharp groan from her stomach reminded her that it had expected supper long ago. Not for the first time, Sarah felt a hot panic rising about Jenny's well-being. She also felt the uncomfortable fullness of her child's missed meals. Undoubtedly by now Jenny was screaming with hunger. Would goblins tease and poke her? Was _he_ holding her this very moment? She felt a strange angry heat shoot through her at the thought. Sarah listened carefully but heard nothing but the wind, and then again her stomach. So hungry. So tired. And terribly thirsty.

Something appeared in the corner of her vision: a sparkling glass of clear water. Sarah startled and whirled around. Jareth was lounging casually two steps above her and holding out the glass on a steady gloved palm. Sarah wanted to recoil but the stairs were high and narrow and she did not trust that she would not fall.

"Was that you just now, the trick with the stairs?" she demanded once she regained her voice.

"Always just questions and commands with you," Jareth tutted. "Take the water, Sarah, you need it."

She looked at the water. "That would be more tempting if you hadn't _drugged me_ with food in the past," she answered.

"Such ugly perceptions you have of our time together." His attention shifted to the descending stairs. "No, I cannot take credit for the dwarf's return voyage. That was the labyrinth's doing _."_ A colorful eyebrow raised in mirth. "Though I do applaud its efforts." He gestured the glass towards Sarah further and said brightly, "Drink." When she turned her head in continued rejection, he shifted his hand and the glass transformed. "Is this more trustworthy to you, you unforgiving suspicious woman?" What had been perfect glittering crystal was now earthen, cracked, and dirty.

Her defiance died in her parched throat. Weighing the options, she decided that whatever might come of drinking the water, it could well be better than dying on this endless stairway, which she increasingly suspected was a possibility. _Besides_ , she reasoned, _personally_ o _ffering me poison in a cup seems too obvious for him anyways._

He smiled as she brusquely took the cup and drank down the water. Though the cup was streaked with dirt, the water was cool and clean, and when Sarah lowered the cup, it refilled. Twice more she drank. Feeling revived, she extended the cup back to Jareth. He grinned, accepted the cup with a nod, and carelessly tossed it over his shoulder. It fell past the edge of the stairs and into oblivion. He made no further conversation and sat looking at her neutrally. Despite the awkwardness of sharing the narrow stairway, he radiated ease and comfort. She became suddenly aware that his leg was brushing against her side.

"Thank you. For the water," she said uncertainly.

"You are most welcome. The king's services are, as ever, at your disposal."

She thought his voice lacked the outright mockery she would have expected. She frowned. "Now what."

He glanced down the stairs again. "Well you could go down." He lazily rolled his head to peer up the stairs. "Or you could go up." He rested his chin on his hand, elbow on knee. One finger extended towards his darker eye.

Sarah found herself drawn to that intense eye but concentrated instead on his gloved hand. Soft black leather. Uncomfortably close. Nowhere to run. "That's not what I-" Sarah stopped herself. An argument would be unproductive and she suspected he would enjoy it. _Damn you, Jareth_ , her mind repeated _._ "Show me Jenny again." She realized she sounded utterly petulant and so added more gently, "Please." With effort she shifted her gaze to meet his.

He put his hands flat together against his mouth. "I could. I could also make it cost you." His tone was dark. Then with a merry laugh, he obligingly produced the vision.

Jenny was asleep on the throne, alone. Jareth watched Sarah with a serious expression. She was in a doubly unique position: facing the labyrinth a second time and facing it for a child she had not herself wished away. There was no guilt to dilute her fear, only experience to amplify it. And he realized he must seem much more her enemy this time.

"You haven't... bewitched her, have you?" Sarah asked, still looking into the crystal. "Is she all right? Is she hungry?"

"I do have rather extensive experience with children, you know, and no small skill with them. But one that young does so need her mother. I thought it best she sleep the time away. So she sleeps. " He added peevishly, "I _do_ have power over _her,"_ and knew at once this was an impolitic thing to say. Sarah stood with a swiftness that belied her fatigue and grabbed Jareth's free hand.

"If I could curse you from existence with the right words, _Goblin King_ , believe you me I would spend my days searching for that right _delicious_ sentence." A desperate anger powered her as she raised her other hand to strike him. Her hands, however, passed through him, his body suddenly without substance. The swing of her arm took her off balance, and she toppled off the stairs into the wind.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sarah._

_You truly are as stubborn as you are ungrateful. You_ _would_ _find a third option when I presented two, but honestly, leaping from the stairs? You do exhaust me. Obviously I thwarted your fatal descent. I am sure you will find a way to hate me for this._

_I took the liberty of healing your injuries while you slept. I also corrected an old fracture in your arm that I considered to have healed improperly, and I aided your recuperation from childbirth. Mortal medicine is brutishly inept. To further your renewal, you will find nourishment alongside this note. I promise, on my throne, it is no threat to you. Eat your fill. I recommend the peaches._

_I trust you will attempt no further physical insult on my person, Sarah. The repercussions would be... regrettable._

         _King Jareth_

 

Sarah replaced the letter on the table. In addition to the sparkling water glass, the table held several plates of ornate food: small braided breads, tiny savory pastries, decorated candies. Central was a beautiful glass bowl heaped with fragrant, perfect peaches.

She had awoken in a hammock in a sunny stand of trees, the table nearby. Several readings of the letter that had rested atop the peaches devolved into simply studying Jareth's flowing, exact handwriting. The notion of the Goblin King writing her a letter, however threatening, struck her as ridiculous and amusing. Nightmare monsters did not _pen letters._ She did feel entirely refreshed, better than she could remember having felt for some time, and though she was vaguely violated by his "liberties," a reluctant gratitude towards Jareth blossomed in Sarah's heart.

"Asshole," she muttered.

She ate the bread and several pastries and ignored the rest.

Sarah noted to herself that this time through the labyrinth seemed to involve about as much waking up in strange places but a lot more violence. The wrong turns had been crueler; the barbs, sharper. And that man made of stone had definitely leered at her with unsavory intent. Even without the stress of the clock and the threat of losing a loved one, the labyrinth would be an ordeal. And now she lacked the protection of childhood and its certain ignorances.

_This horrible, maddening place._

Last time she'd made friends- allies- by looking for the best in everyone she came across. Was it simply that people this time had less virtue, or had she lost her ability to see it?

She'd hardly known where she was as she ascended the endless stairs, but _now_ where in hell was she? At least this small forest didn't remind her of the terrifying encounter with the Fieries. Still, she did not wish to linger under the trees. She strode toward the edge of the small wood to look for the castle. What were the odds she'd reunite with Hoggle? How close was she to Jenny? How long had she slept?

Something in a nearby tree glinted. An elegant pocket watch hung by its golden chain over a branch. Coming up on eight o'clock. Sarah tried to tease the chain down, to take the watch with her, but the tree brayed and shivered. She threw her hands in the air. "All right! Sorry! Forget it!" Then she darted forward, yanked the watch with all her might, and sprinted away from the tree, watch in hand, broken length of chain dangling.

 _Five hours._ She jogged with renewed purpose from the grove toward an inviting door across a beautifully tiled courtyard and promptly fell through a false tile into a cavern below.


	6. Chapter 6

"And your mother, too!" Sarah shouted at the receding tentacled creature as she dragged herself out of the lake. What she wouldn't give today for simply running through corridors.  She pulled small spiny rocks- animals?- out of the skin of her legs and surveyed the sky. She was thankful to see it, though it was dark and angry. Sarah fished the watch from her pocket, pleased to see it still worked after the swim. She'd spent close to three hours working her way out of the cave and its murky lake inhabited by cranky octopus things. She stood, conscious of the weight of the dirty water in her clothing.

Then the sky lit, thunder clapped, and an enthusiastic rain followed. Sarah closed her eyes a moment. _At least I'll be cleaner._

_Assuming it doesn't rain blood or frog guts or something..._

She started down a path through the field that surrounded the lake. It was becoming harder to see, between the rain and the dark of the sky. With more lightning flashing above, Sarah wondered if she shouldn't seek shelter. But time was flying and she reasoned she _probably_ wouldn't be struck dead.

A closer bolt. She felt the hair on her neck prickle. _Okay. Shelter._ _For now._

She saw a light ahead down the path, as though from a lantern. "I hope you're a friendly light," she murmured as she ran.

Without having noticed that she'd crossed a doorway, Sarah was out of the rain. She leaned against a chair to catch her breath and surveyed the table before her. It needed to be cleared before supper, so she gathered up the flotsam that inevitably ends up on kitchen tables- papers, a pen, a book- and tucked it on a bookshelf already laden with previous days' table clearings. The soup she'd started earlier should be finished soon, and the air smelled wonderfully of fresh bread. John was carefully taking a round loaf from the oven.

"Oh I'm glad to see you," Sarah sighed as she took down two bowls from the shelf and set them on the table. He turned his head slightly towards her and smiled softly. "The storm took me by surprise, I was just... outside." She blinked, feeling strange. Then she became aware of how uncomfortable her sodden clothes were. "I'm going to go change before we eat."

Sarah grabbed a towel from the bathroom and headed into her bedroom. She dried off and ran a comb through her hair, listening to the rain beat against the house. From her bedroom wardrobe she took khaki slacks and her favorite sweater, dark green wool in a simple knit. The sweater had been a gift from her beloved baby brother many years ago, before he had moved across the country and rather fallen out of her life. The ancient farm house was warm enough but the sweater felt protective and welcome. Familiar. Thinking about Toby caused a spark of worry. She felt suddenly and irrationally concerned for his safety. The room lit up as a crash of thunder shook the windowpanes and she gasped.

 _It's just the weather making me jumpy,_ she decided, feeling foolish. As she pulled her shirt off, she noticed blood on the sleeve and frowned, unable to explain the maroon smear _. And clumsy, I guess._

When she returned to the kitchen, John had served soup and bread for them both. A vase of late season wildflowers sat to one side on the table. Sarah smiled. She dumped her wet clothes on the laundry room floor and sat down at the table. John passed behind her carrying a mug of tea. He paused to lay a tender kiss on her forehead. This small domestic intimacy thrilled her unexpectedly.

They ate in companionable silence. Sarah rubbed her thumb against an old chip in her bowl and idly studied the flowers. They were her favorite and only grew in the further fields. John must have troubled himself to find some earlier today. The soup was in a style she'd been using for years which changed with the seasons. It was delicious and warm. Safe. Familiar. Something about where the vase stood, though, troubled her. As if it were taking up too much room at the table, space meant for something else.

After supper Sarah washed dishes while John swept the floor and tended the wood stove. Through the cracked kitchen window, Sarah saw the weather had changed entirely. The sky was the earnest blue of a late September afternoon, the sunlight honey-golden and angled low. High silver clouds reflected the beginnings of sunset. Sarah sighed deeply, contentedly. There was nowhere else she would rather be. And no one she'd rather be with. Good, dependable, gentle John. Safe, familiar John.

 _Good dependable John._ She paused in her dishwashing and glanced behind her. John was silhouetted against the soft flames of the fire as he prepared it for the night. He looked odd to her somehow. Too... something. His posture pricked her mind but she shook her head and finished washing the bowl in her hand.

John spoke with his back to her. "Going to bed, love?"

She peered outside at the now-setting sun. The field was in shadow, the gardens dark. _We should get some chickens,_ she thought. _No, of course not, I_ hate _chickens... That's ridiculous, why would I hate chickens?_

John approached her and laid a questioning hand on her shoulder as she dried the bowl.

"Not quite yet... John," Sarah replied, hesitating at his name. "I'll finish this and be in."

He leaned her backwards to kiss her forehead again, and again she was surprised by the intensity of this small gesture. She smiled, though she thought John's scent was surprisingly floral tonight. Usually John smelled of shaving cream and automotive oil. John grinned down at her, a strange attitude to his smile.

 _How have I not realized how tall he is?_ she thought dully.

John released her shoulder. He took the dry bowl from her hands, put it away on its shelf, and disappeared into the bedroom.

Sarah dunked a small measuring glass into the water and wiped out the traces of milk. She hummed to herself a little as the sun set with finality over the hill. She could not identify the tune that was passing through her, but it made her uneasy and she let the song fade into silence. She dried the measuring glass, hooked its handle over the edge of her porcelain mixing bowl, and closed the cabinet door. Just a few dishes more, then at last to a much-deserved rest.

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

She stood transfixed by the sound. Sarah peered around with wide alert eyes. The lamplight was sufficient for her to see clearly. Nothing caught her eye. The sound was terrible. Urgent. Unsafe.

Familiar.

Her hands patted her pants pockets in some quest beyond her understanding. Then with a revelation, she pivoted slowly back to the cupboard and opened the door. The small measuring glass, balanced on its handle, was rocking back and forth, tapping the bowl with a neat steady rhythm. _Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Her hand steadied the cup, and she closed the door and backed away. The sound was gone from the room but not from her mind. _Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

Now she was just being silly. It was a beautiful evening. John would be waiting for her in their warm bed. Nothing should be troubling her, certainly not flowers, chickens, and measuring cups. She wanted to laugh at herself, but instead she felt a great disquiet as she finished the last few dishes, drained the dishwater, and walked towards the bedroom.

But there was something she needed to do before she could rest.

What was she forgetting?

She _was_ forgetting something.

She put her face in her hands and inhaled slowly. Why couldn't she think clearly?

_Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick._

She lowered her hands to her heart. Something was missing.

Something.

 _Someone_.

"My god," she whispered.

She ran to the laundry room and knelt, hands grabbing frantically at the pile of wet clothing.

"You are, I presume, looking for this?" Sarah froze. Behind her, John's voice was speaking words that weren't at all John's.

When she turned, Sarah saw John. Until she saw him speak.

"It is mine, after all," Jareth said casually, admiring the watch. "It saddens me, though, that you destroyed the chain." He met her eyes with his own, the glamour gone. "Aren't you coming to bed, love?"

She scowled up at him and adopted a defensive stance. "I've woken up, Jareth."

"Oh I know. Yet the offer stands." He grinned and his voice dropped an octave. "All the better, really."

She felt suddenly very cornered. "Let me pass, Jareth."

An exasperated tone now. "You practically begged me to enter my labyrinth, now you act as though I've imprisoned you in it." He gestured magnificently through the door. "Sarah, you are free to go."

Sarah rose and hesitated. Jareth occupied half the exit, leaning on the door frame with one foot pressed against the threshold behind him. With a burst of courage she strode purposefully through the doorway. As she passed him, he said softly, "Though it would please me if you stayed."

The room went airless. For a moment, sound did not exist. When Sarah's heart found its rhythm again, she drew a shaky breath and replied with forced sarcasm. "Ha. Of course you would, because I'm about to solve this labyrinth and win."

Silence.

"On the contrary, Sarah, this time I would like for you to solve the labyrinth."

This bewildered Sarah even further, and she simply stood in the house that was and was not hers. Though a part of Sarah wilted at the thought, she wondered if opening to the Goblin King's apparent romantic overture could get Jenny returned to her. _The chances seem better than undertaking another spelunking adventure with Cthulhu and sons_ , she reasoned _._

"Jareth, I..." _I'm terrified of you. So thoroughly that I can't even hate you, much less love you. I'll do anything you say, if you give me back my baby..._ She figured it wasn't quite the overdue reply he might hope for.

"That's the third time now you've used my name," the Goblin King remarked, his voice appraising and still eerily soft. "I rather like the sound." Then his face lit with his usual condescending smirk as he finally turned his head to look at her. "Though you would do well to remember that it is _Ki_ _ng_ Jareth, Sarah. Such disrespect, it's unseemly." He tutted and tapped his cheek. "Now were you _Queen_ Sarah. _.._ "

She prayed he didn't see the look that crossed her face. Another quiet moment followed. Neither moved.

"Tell me, before you go," he said conversationally. “What would have convinced you?"

She turned her head over her shoulder towards him, eyes downcast. "Really? Are you truly so unseeing?"

He studied her profile. "If I had been able to give you the child?"

She turned away again. A minute passed before she spoke. "You almost robbed me of motherhood once already; I couldn't face the thought of you amusing yourself by taking my children. Out of spite. Or... It was a risk I couldn't take. But then I did risk it." She gave a low hollow laugh. "And well, you know how that went."

"Sarah, this wasn't my-"

"How long have I got, Goblin King?"

He sighed and extended an arm around her, the chain dangling from his hand. Sharply conscious of the near embrace, she clasped the watch. The chain slid gracefully from his gloved fingers as he surrendered the object and withdrew his arm. _Twelve forty-three._ She trembled and her eyes stung with sudden tears. There was nothing to decide.

One step and her face was directly below his. Her right hand bunched the collar of her sweater anxiously. "King Jareth, if I-"

"Stop." Jareth brought up his hand in a fluid gesture. "That's not... No, Sarah."

Ice poured through her. Fifteen years of carrying certain convictions... the last ten minutes' conversation... _No?_

Jareth read her expression fairly accurately and was not unamused. "Not like this. You don’t have to… not like this." He raised a hand to her face and cupped the side of her jaw in his palm. He bent his head, clearly struggling with himself. Then his eyes closed. He kissed her forehead softly once again and this time Sarah understood her response. He whispered: "Go. It's not as far as you think, and there is time enough."

She took two uncertain steps backwards then fled the house.

"You will solve the labyrinth," he said quietly, his eyes opening. "And I will win."


	7. Chapter 7

It had been night in the house. Outside there was light in the sky again, though its colors were iron grey with streaks of pink. _Like last time._ She saw the path down the hill leading back to the green lake. There was another path the other direction. It went straight to the castle.

No labyrinthine turns. No ominous forests, mechanical guards, or goblin cities. Just a mile of dusty footpath through grasses and wildflowers.

Sarah ran. And ran. She ran up the path, tears streaking towards her ears. She ran up dozens of stone stairs towards tall double doors, wide open. She ran through a majestic hallway empty of any living thing but herself. She ran up more stairs and straight into the room where her daughter, swaddled in clean patterned silk, slept on Jareth's throne.

Sarah leapt over the pit in the center of the room, threw herself up the steps of the dais, and fell to her knees at the curved throne of the Goblin King.

Mother lifted the sleeping child with both reverence and haste, and if Sarah had been able to tuck her daughter back inside her own body, it would not have been close enough. She pressed the infant's head against her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes, her heart. She pressed her own lips to Jenny's neck and took in a breath she thought she would never release.

The physical toll of her race from the house met with the intense emotional overload of the day. Together they slammed into Sarah like a runaway boulder. She crept up into the throne, Jenny cradled in her arms, and as the dagger-handed clock began to strike _thirteen_ , Sarah fell into a dead sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

If Sarah had had any part of her brain available for thoughts beyond " _baby_ " as she passed out, she would have expected to have woken up in her apartment.  After all, she had made her way to the castle at the center of the labyrinth and recovered the child therein. As it was, her preoccupation with simply reaching her daughter had pushed everything else aside. She had not spared the moments to parse her initial conversation with Jareth. She had taken for granted that once she got to the castle and found Jenny, everything would be all right.

She always had had trouble with that.

Though little profit there may have been in worrying about what came next, she would have at least been spared the shock of waking up in Jareth's throne room.

She took in the scene a little disbelievingly. Jareth sat on a stone bench protruding from the wall of a window alcove across the room. His legs extended across empty space, his boots resting on an opposite bench. He was the picture of comfort and patience, gazing out the window. Around him, discarded objects, dirty rags, loose straw: the room's squalor was in stark contrast to his poise and elegance. His clothing was simple, maroon and white. Bright daylight streamed in through the window, highlighting burgundy accents in his hair. A chicken was poking around the pit in the floor.

 _That's why I hate chickens,_ Sarah thought absurdly.

Realizing herself capable of thought, Sarah straightened up. The throne was not designed for napping, and her body was sore in interesting new ways. But Jenny was there, and stirring. It had been a long, long sleep. Sarah foresaw the child's need and quickly matched baby to breast. Once Jenny was settled, she peered up at Sarah with her pale green eyes and grinned. Sarah returned the smile automatically though it quickly faded. She glanced towards the window. Jareth hadn't moved.

"She has your eyes," he remarked to the sky. "Woe to the world."

"What am I doing here?"

"Feeding your child and keeping the king from his chair, I think."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then say what you mean, Sarah." He looked towards her. "You are such a poor student."

"Okay; I _mean_ to say you are the most _arrogant_ -"

"Come now, let's not argue in front of the baby."

She closed her eyes, let a moment pass, then met his gaze. "Why are Jenny and I still Underground?"

He glided upright and leaned against the corner of the alcove wall.  "Because you won, precious. Didn't you notice?"

"Exactly! I _did_ win! So send us home, right now."

"Those weren't the terms, Sarah." He held out a crystal and spun it on his finger tips. As it whirled, pale conversation floated from it.

 _"_ _I will give you your hours to solve my labyrinth, as you ask, for your ‘daughter's sake.’ As yet another_ generosity _."_

_"I will not go home without Jenny."_

_"Indeed, then. Terms accepted."_

He flicked his wrist and the crystal evaporated. "You asked to solve the labyrinth for your daughter's sake and that you not return home without her. So you, who did not wish her away and thus could not undo the actions of the wish, as I will remind you _again-_ you reached the castle. With some help perhaps but that was true last time as well. As reward for your success, the child remains..." He gestured vaguely. "...not a goblin. And as per our agreement, you have been permitted to remain here with her." He regarded her coolly as she sat in stunned silence.

Then: "You tricked me."

He shook his head. "No, Sarah. I kept my word." He returned to the window.

Sarah was quiet again as she tried to process what was happening. Jenny interrupted her thoughts with a gurgle and a burp. Sarah switched sides and loosened the blanket around her daughter, freeing Jenny's arms. Jenny was obviously pleased with the change and gaily bumped her hand against Sarah's breast. Sarah spoke without looking away from Jenny. "I won't accept that. The idea is ludicrous. This isn't our home. What would we do here? Jenny can't...  We have..."

"What _do_ you have," Jareth asked quietly, "that you are so eager to return to it?"

Anger rose in her. Any knowledge he had of her life felt like an unforgivable intrusion, much less any judgment he made of it. She was also angry because she had little by way of rebuttal. What _did_ she have? Her father was dead; her step-mother, estranged. No contact with her mother in countless years. Even Toby, with whom she had once been so close, had moved out of her life, chasing his dreams in a distant city. Sarah couldn't blame any of that on the Underground.

She did, however, fault her childhood foray in the labyrinth for other of her ills. Her aversion to crowds and cities, which ended her acting aspirations. The extreme antipathy towards innocent things-  Glitter. Anything fluffy and bright orange. Costumes, masks, fairy tales... _Peaches._ \- which had always made Sarah a bit too weird for most people. John had not minded these quirks, mostly because he didn't register them. She had met him at work, and he spent most of his time there. He and Sarah mostly kept to themselves even within the marriage. It worked well for both of them. They'd been married four years before everything went to hell when she became pregnant. With such animosity between herself and John now, her job at the shop was as good as done, too. Besides, she could hardly bring Jenny along with her to work, and she couldn't fathom putting Jenny into anyone else's care with such things as Goblin Kings in the world.

She glared at the stone arm of the Goblin King's throne. The current state of her life was not his business and of no relevance to the matter at hand. "How do you even-"

"Higgle told me."

Her frown deepened. "Is Hoggle okay?"

"The dwarf is unharmed. I sent him back home. He did seem ever so worried about you. Doesn't seem to trust I won’t hurt you."

"Well, I _am_ your prisoner. You did trick me."

Jareth had been ambling around his throne room but stopped now and looked offended. "Sarah." He approached her and she cursed herself for shrinking away. Jareth dropped gracefully to one knee on the dais and laid a hand on the throne arm. " _Sarah_ , I would make you my _queen_."

She stared at him. Then she laughed madly.

Jenny, startled, let go of Sarah's breast and squirmed. Sarah, suddenly self-conscious, smoothed her sweater back down and lifted her child to her shoulder. "Fifteen years haven't made me any more interested in your proposals, your Highness. I just want to go home."

Jareth stood, his face dark. "Nor have those years made you any wiser about _kings_ making _proposals."_ Sweeping down the steps and around the room, he kicked the unlucky chicken that had flapped up out of the pit. "I have been very patient with you, Sarah. And generous as always. I allowed you to dictate the terms of your success in the labyrinth; do not fault me if you were imprecise. I healed you, fed you, sheltered you, saved your very life. I brought you to the feet of castle, and I permitted your daughter to remain human. I do not undertake these actions lightly." He leapt onto an adjoining bench, gripped the arm of throne, and hissed in Sarah's ear. "They involve... _bending_ many _rules_."

Sarah was properly terrified of several possible outcomes of this scene. There was a part of her brain that wasn't aware only of Jareth's mouth at her ear; it noticed that the exit was clear of Goblin Kings. With a magnificent vault, Sarah quit the throne and dashed from the room, Jenny clutched tightly to her chest.

Jareth had the good grace to look surprised but made no effort at pursuit. "Where ever are you going to go, Sarah?" he murmured in amusement. With a soft jump, he alighted in his throne and drew a crystal into his hand, chuckling.


	9. Chapter 9

Sarah was on the stone stairs down to the dirt path before her mind caught up with her body. Jenny was crying, and Sarah slowed to a trot. She knew if Jareth wanted to catch up with her, no speed would make any difference. But she had to get out of that castle. Away from that suffocating tantalizing voice.

It wasn't long before Sarah's house- the facsimile of Sarah's house- stood before her. She turned and looked down the path past the lake. What would she find in that direction? Could it be any less horrible than the playhouse behind her? She pictured herself grappling with the giant octopus with one arm, the other clutching her daughter; spiny rock-fish things stuck in both. Sarah took a deep intake of air, to clear her head and calm her racing heart; and caught the unmistakable smell of a soiled diaper. She closed her eyes tightly for a long moment, then turned and walked into the house.

It was daylight inside as it was out. The views from the windows toward the castle were now true to the Labyrinth surroundings. Sarah's vegetable gardens stood where they belonged, but beyond them she now saw the lake. From her living room, she could see the meadow stretching on towards Jareth's castle. She grimaced purposefully in its direction and extended her middle finger towards it. "I'm not your pet!" she shouted through the open window. The butterflies on the flowers outside made no reply.

Sarah thought to use a towel from the bathroom as a makeshift diaper for the baby. She glanced into her bedroom on her way past and noticed a small table had been piled with children's things: sturdy, simple clothing; small blankets; soft cotton diapers. Again the mixed feelings of gratitude and annoyance pressed against Sarah's heart, but she moved towards the table and took what she needed.

When Jenny was clean and changed, and the soiled diaper in a convenient pail that had appeared in the bathroom, Sarah sat on the living room sofa. Child and mother regarded one another.

"What are we going to do, little one?" Sarah said softly, lightly bouncing Jenny. "I don't know the way home. I don't know the words I need this time..." She glanced around the room as if for inspiration. "I wish Jenny and I were back in our real home!" she tried earnestly. Nothing happened; the castle remained framed by the window. "You have no power over me!" No change. "I wish Hoggle were here with me." No dwarf. " _I_ _hate this place!"_

Creeping terror threatened to overtake her. In all her life, she'd never felt so desperately alone and directionless. She kept panic at bay by concentrating on baby Jenny- whole, healthy, human, happy baby Jenny. She leaned forward to inhale her daughter's scent, but it stuck in her throat and she gagged. Jenny smelled of Jareth. Spring flowers, rich fruit, worn leather. "I really _really_ hate this place."

Sarah exchanged Jenny's clothes for some from the bedroom table, sniffing them tentatively first: no _eau de Goblin King_. She recognized a length of stretchy fabric as a likely carrying cloth, tucked Jenny against her chest, and wrapped it securely around them both. Out of obvious things to do, Sarah paced the house. It seemed the safest place for them right now; familiar, at least, well supplied, and free of monsters and puzzles. Everything was largely as Sarah's house had been, with subtle changes. The bookshelves looked stronger. The worn rug seemed fresher and made from a more luxurious material. A few baby things had been added; the sight of them in this setting tugged at her heart. She had had to move out of her house before she had needed any. The memory of the years spent wishing for and fearing this very thing was strong, but the sight of it now pulsed with an eerie unwholesomeness. "Jareth, you ruin everything."

She clamped her mouth shut, suddenly afraid that addressing him might invite him to her. When he didn't appear, she exhaled and went to the kitchen for food. "I hate to eat anything here," she murmured to Jenny, who was happily snuggled against her mother. Sarah's stomach growled at the sight of food. "Can't survive on cussedness, though." Bypassing a variety of fruit, she removed some cheese, butter, a few eggs, and a handful of spinach. "Might need some chickens after all," she remarked. Having Jenny to talk aloud to again provided a great feeling of peace.

Sarah prepared herself a small meal of cubed cheese and fried eggs and greens. As she slipped the soiled skillet into the sink, she saw that a tiny shed had appeared in her front yard. Several handsome chickens pecked lazily in the grass around it. " _That_ you give me?!" she exclaimed, angry and afraid.

Sarah ate standing at the window, glaring at the hens.

Mid-bite, a wild thought struck Sarah. She hurried to the phone on the wall of the kitchen and took it from its cradle. Her fingers hesitated over the dial; who to even call? Who would pick up? An image flashed in her mind of Jareth answering from his personal chambers, and she dropped the phone back into place.

"What are we going to do?" she asked the baby. Jenny looked up slowly and did a small dance in the wrap. Sarah smiled and relaxed slightly. She finished her food and found herself staring at her plate. She was standing in her kitchen. With her infant. Holding her dish. In the Underground. She was tempted to smash the plate against the wall in protest of the absurdity of her situation. Instead she added it to the sink, then went to every window in the house, drawing curtains, closing blinds. "There we are. Could be back on our own street, now." She turned on some lights and sat awkwardly on her sofa.

Looking around again she now noticed her husband's possessions were absent. The stuffed deer head on the wall, the television in the corner- things Sarah had never had use for and initially didn’t realize were missing. All her own books were on their shelves, but John's were gone. In their place was a vase of Sarah's favorite flowers and a small wooden box, finely engraved. Sarah did not care to open it. On the small table by the sofa was, instead of John's magazines, a basket of children's toys- carved figures, soft animals, a rattle. It felt lovely, inviting... and poisonous.

_What am I supposed to do here, play house? Make believe this is my home? Like an animal in a zoo. He can't really intend to keep me here. I'm a prisoner. Would he do that? He tricked me. What choice did I have. Is he watching me? Gross. How long have I been gone? What if I never get back… Queen indeed. Why? Why me? What’s he playing at._

She sat on the sofa lost in her thoughts, the exchange with Jareth in her kitchen replaying in her mind. Eventually Jenny fussed and brought Sarah's attention back to the moment. "Can't sit on this couch my whole life, baby," she sighed and stood to soothe her child.

All through the day Sarah made no progress in decision making. She played with Jenny. She rocked her through her naps; Sarah rested a novel held on her knee but couldn't bring herself to do anything so normal as read it. The wood stove sported a cozy fire but never needed tending so she was robbed of even that distraction. At lunch she found the pantry full, and at dinner it seemed to have replenished itself. Sarah was afraid to leave the house for fear it would disappear or that she'd be greeted by unpleasantness- or royalty- outside. She bathed Jenny but couldn't make herself do the same. Not in this place. Not with Jareth's scrying crystals on her mind.

That first night Sarah barely slept. Jenny woke no more than usual, but Sarah couldn't quite sell herself on the fiction of the house enough to relax.

The second night was little better.

By the end of the week she was sleeping some. And had finally bathed.

On day ten she was standing in her vegetable garden, Jenny on her back, hoe in hand, desperate to lay something low. But the garden was unnaturally devoid of weeds. She kept her back to the distant castle as she prowled the rows, brandishing the business end of her tool at the plants and scowling. Finding nothing to vent her frustration on, she threw the hoe to the soil, turned her head deliberately towards the castle, and began to walk.


	10. Chapter 10

Halfway to Jareth's castle, she saw him. Just over a crest in the landscape was a small table a few feet off the path, and in one of the two accompanying chairs sat the Goblin King.

Sarah had not seen nor heard from him since the encounter in the throne room. She stopped walking, the sureness of her stalk towards the castle gone completely at the sight of him. She hadn't had a plan anyway. But she needed to do something.

"Come, sit! Eat with me." He gestured to the food on the table with one hand and raised a bowl of berries in the other. He sat sliding berries into his mouth as he watched her.

She did sit, perched halfway on the metal chair since Jenny was tied to her back.

"You request an audience with your King?" he said with mock gravity. "I do live to serve. I am listening."

"I'm not your subject, I'm your prisoner, and no amount of pretty things will make me forget that. I _petition-_ " she matched his sarcastic tone- "that I and my daughter be released and sent home."  

He set down his bowl and placed his hands on the table in an earnest gesture. "I am bored with this conversation. I will decline to indulge you in the future. The child was sent here by someone who did not come and win her back to your world. You and I made a separate deal regarding her continued humanity as well as your ability to remain in my kingdom, as my guest. This has been done and cannot be altered. Is there something else I can provide you? A marble throne, perhaps, or a crown? I can do wonders for your wardrobe. We could create a marvelous queen's suite adjacent to my own chambers, if you do not wish to share, though you are welcome-"  

She expected as much as this and cut him off. "There is absolutely no way you can send me and my baby together back home."

"None."

"Is there anyone who can?"

"No."  

Neither moved. They regarded one another in silence. Sarah didn't know whether to believe him, but she hardly had any evidence for an argument. Hoggle’s voice played in her mind: _What choice do you have?_ Finally she declared, "This is ridiculous."

He leaned back in his chair and resumed eating the berries. "Sarah, you'll need to be more specific when insulting me."

She leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table and slid her face into her hands. "For fifteen years, I have been afraid of you. You're the nightmare who ended my childhood and pretty much ruined my life. And here I sit with you at this table like we're meeting for a lunch date. You've gone one further than ruining my life, now, you took it from me entirely, twisted it into an unnatural joke. A ghost life, a funhouse mirror of reality. I'm not sure I'm still afraid of you. I think now I just hate you."

"Do you." He leaned forward in an echo of Sarah's posture and rested his chin on his hands. "It's me you hate? Am I truly the nightmare. Have I not given you everything you want, everything you ask for? And I would give you so much more still."

Sarah slid her hands from her face but could not meet Jareth's sparkling eyes, so near hers. She felt the warm sun on her shoulders, smelled the wildflowers of the meadow. Birds sang in the distance. It was placid, muted. When she spoke, it was in a small defeated voice. "You offer me deceit and insanity and make-believe. I have no power to counter you, other than my will to do so. I might almost not even care at this point, but I have my child to protect now." Words failed her. How could she protect a child in this mad place?

Jareth's voice was softer even than Sarah's and possessed a calm earnestness. "Nothing here will harm your child."

With difficulty she met his eyes. She did hate him but in a dim dull way at the moment. She had no leverage. She could only hope and trust. Isn't that what got her through the labyrinth the first time, after all?

"No tricks, no bargains. I ask nothing of you in exchange. Your child is one of us. She is safe here. She will be cared for here. The Underground is her home. The question that remains is, what will _you_ make of it."

She heard his unspoken point: how safe and well-cared-for had they been previously, without family support or financial security? Or was it her own mind inserting this context. She turned her irritation outward. "You are a capricious asshole."

His eyebrows raised in amusement. "That's hardly relevant."

Jenny stirred on Sarah's back. Sarah stood to maneuver the baby around to her arms and Jareth rose with her. She gazed resignedly at him as he stepped toward her. Unconsciously she held Jenny more tightly. Jareth brought up a hand holding a crystal, then twisted his wrist sharply; the sphere was replaced by an elegant crown of thin woven silver. He presented it on outstretched palm. "Sarah...  I would have you for my queen. I ask again simply that you fear, love, and obey me, and your eternal servant I will be _._ "

She looked up at his confident beautiful face. He was so close. Alluring, intimidating, wild, terrifying. Flashing through Sarah's mind were potential futures, images of magic, glamour, and intimacy, possibilities she would not have dared put words to even in her most private moments. The crown, lovely and delicate, glinted in the sun against the smooth black fabric of Jareth's glove.

Sarah took a fortifying breath.

And turned away.

"I trust your honor dictates that you respect my privacy," she called out as she walked purposefully back down the dirt road. "I need to take a bath more than once a week."

"What!" Jareth shouted disbelievingly after her. "Where are you going?"

"Home, for what it’s worth," she replied, not looking back. "Could you at least let the weeds grow? It’s creepy."

And he stood, crown held loosely against his chest, until she disappeared from view.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of fan fiction. I would be delighted to know what people think. Kindness is appreciated. <3


End file.
